Seventeen Miles To Rainbow Row
by Symphonyofdisaster
Summary: Korea. 1950. Captain Hawkeye Pierce has been stationed at M.A.S.H 4077 for six months and has already lost a best friend. What happens when a family member winds up under his care and his father doesn't write him for months? Find out! Chapter 7 is up!
1. Chapter 1

_Twas the night before doomsday and all through the land_

_The blood kept on flowing, staining the sand_

_With kids at the front and brass at the rear_

_We take in the air soaked with hatred and fear_

_Sand, blood, and smoke is all that's visible to the eye_

_We have everything to lose for to fail is to die_

_You look through the cross hairs and see a young man_

_Your job is to kill him but you don't know if you can_

_We do our best to endure this terrestrial Hell_

_You're hit, you're exhausted, you rest for a spell_

_We're hot and we're tired, ever expectant that danger is near_

_No one on Earth seems to know the reason we're here_

_They're trying to kill me but I won't give them the pleasure_

_Preparing to partake of this desperate measure_

_I've lived with the insanity and there's no end in sight_

_So I write this to you on my last mortal night_

* * *

Dear Dad,

Rain. Always rain. And when it isn't raining its snowing. Or it's not doing anything at all but melting our dog tags or freezing our...well, you know. Dreary. Always dreary. Even when the sun is shining bright, it's still dreary. The bleakness affects us all. Thank God for gin. Thank God for gin and Trapper John. Thank God for gin and Trapper John and Henry. That's about all there is to be thankful for.

Back to the rain, Dad. It has been raining for three weeks straight. The only plus to this is the fact that its kind of hard to march and fire a rifle when you're swimming. Even the plus has a huge downside. Boredom. There is absolutely nothing to do. What I wouldn't give to have stock in Korean pontoons right about now. I'd make a killing. Despite the lull in the war, business, unfortunately, remains very brisk. With torrential rain comes a rise in the water level. With standing water come every insect and germ you could ever imagine and many you couldn't. Not that you'd want to. We've had more cases of trench foot in the past two weeks than all of the combatants had in the entirety of World War One! Viruses of countless variety, affecting every known part of the human body have plagued the camp recently. But all I can do is sip martinis and lose fake money in poker.

Maybe I should write General Macarthur and bribe him with military scrip to end the war. It probably wouldn't work though. Bastard uses real greenbacks. Who needs Monopoly money when you got the real thing? I'm rambling aren't I? I'll be back, Dad, we've got wounded coming in and I have to scrub up.

I'm back, Dad. Its three days later and I'm twenty years older. Hope you don't mind me dragging ya along for a lousy cup of coffee in the mess tent. I'll tell ya, I operated on a hundred and fourteen patients. All but one survived, and he didn't have a chance anyway. He was a nine year old South Korean boy who stepped on a land mine while searching for garbage to sell. Senseless!! I just don't understand it. As a unit we've handled over four hundred serious wounds over the past three days. I'm not sure I saw that many patients in a year back home. This war. This damned cursed war!! Dad, make it stop! Please, God, please make it stop! Sorry, Dad, I think this is where I shall leave you. I need to go have a good belt and a good cry and a good sleep. I'll write again as soon as I've found all of my marbles.

Your Mentally Incapacitated Son,

Hawkeye


	2. Chapter 2: Hawkeye's Dream

Ok people here's another one...It's just a dream. Haven't we all dreamed about our deaths? Haven't our perfect dreams been invaded by an imperfect aspect of our

existence. If you say no, then, you are lying. Kinda artsy fartsy or some such nonsense and its an adaptation of a short story I once wrote in English class. Its got a

depressing tone but its not...Read and find out! I'll go ahead and post because I don't feel like waiting for any beta readers at the moment

* * *

Sitting alone in his room, an old man stares through his window out into the dreary, rain filled, Maine night. His lonesome gaze meets many people. Many people pay

him no mind. The man feels his face flush when he realizes someones gaze has met his.

Standing on the street corner below his window is a woman. Not beautiful by most standards, but the man finds himself strongly attracted to this woman. He knows

that she's a woman of the night, but he sees something in her that her prospective clients don't. They couldn't. He sees hope, innocence, and shattered pride. He

stares at the hooker for what seems like an eternity, not realizing for several minutes that she's staring back at him. The instant he realizes this, she giggles and

waves at him. Although extremely embarrassed, he smiles a genuine smile of an old man who's been around and knows about doing what you have to. She turns

around when a silver Ford coupe slows to a halt at her corner.

The man gets up from his chair and walks to the stainless steel sink and removes his dentures, convinced that he's not going to have any more visitors for the

evening, and puts them in the plastic cup on the shelf. He stares in the mirror, looking at what he'd become. Who was he? Fifty years ago he was the ruler of a

universe. Fifty years ago he still had a future. Fifty years ago he was chief surgeon of a medical unit in Korea. Now he lived in constant fear. He feared death like any

sane person would. He lived in constant fear because he knew that he existed solely on borrowed time. He had no relatives. He had no friends, but for some odd

reason he loved life. He loved being alive, what with all the different sensations to be experienced each and every waking moment.

After a few minutes of depressing self examination, the man decided that he was tired and that he would sit back down in the tattered wicker rocker he'd had since

his grandmother passed away some sixty years earlier. He rocks for hours and hours just staring off into nowhere, thinking about his misspent youth, and crying.

The crying is what did it. He feels his eyelids get heavier, and he can't seem to move to get up to get into his four poster. I'll just sleep right here, he thinks.

As sleep threatens to overtake his consciousness, something catches his attention. He manages to lift up his eyelids, and then his head. From the corner of his eye,

he can see something. He can't rightly tell what it is, but he knows he can see it. After staring at it, he realizes that it is a mere pinpoint of blindingly bright light. The

man is mesmerized by it. He doesn't know where its coming from, all he knows is that its slowly growing in size and intensity. The mysterious light continues to grow

until he can make out a shadowy form inside of it. The light with the shadowy form descends into the room until it is right in front of him. As the brightness dies off a

little bit, the figure becomes more clear and the man sees a human form.

The man swears there's something familiar about the man in the light but he can't put his finger on it just yet. The light's blinding yet he cannot look away. The man

is young. Like I used to be, thought the man. The young man smiled a warm smile at the old man and extended his hand to him. He was right in front of him, yet

miles away! The young man said nothing, but the old man knew that he was beckoning him to come with him.

"Come with me Hawkeye, it is time."

The old man was startled at not only the voice, but at what it said, even though he already knew what he wanted.

"Hawkeye, you know me, you know I would do you no harm."

The old man begins to weep. He weeps because he knows the young man. He knows him all too well. The young man is him.

"Come Hawkeye, come now and don't look back until you are safely in my arms."

The old man gets up from his chair and is surprised to find that he doesn't hurt anymore. There is no more pain, no stiffness. The man is overjoyed. He runs to where

the young man is. He reaches for him, but as soon as he comes in reach, the young man disappears and all that's left in front of him is eternity. The man looks down

and realizes that he is the young man. He is dressed in old fashioned army fatigue pants and a navy and white Hawaiian shirt.

"This isn't how I want to spend eternity!" he yelled. A voice in his head tells him that although that year and a half was the most taxing time of his life in every way

imaginable, it was that time that made him the man he had become. He realizes then that he'd always been right; they were never gonna get out of there.

He turns around and sees an old man lying in a little hospital bed, in a chairless, windowless, and now lifeless room. The man turns around and walks into the light.

He smiles as it overcomes him. He smiles because he's alive. For the first time in his life, he's alive. It only took his death to do it.


	3. Chapter 3: The Hell Before The Storm

Here's another one. Thanks to PierceMD, NewYorkGal, and MeatballSurgeons, AtTheSwamp, and Kerri for your reviews. Once again, I don't feel much like waiting for any kind of beta reader to

check to see if my i's are dotted and my t' are crossed, so if it sucks, oh well. It has taken so long to post because I've been job hunting, battling kidney stones, gout,

and possibly a u.t.i. I also don't know where I'm going with the story on the immediate level. I know where it's going to end but that's about it. I also intentionally

make the chapters short so as not to take up too much of your time in case you don't like it. Read and Review please. Well, enough rambling. Enjoy!

* * *

The look on the face of Captain Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce as he slept was one of utter bliss and sheer tranquility. It was a look one rarely, if ever, saw in

this corner of Hell. Captain John Francis Xavier McIntyre (known as Trapper after a hilarious incident on a Maine railway car where he cornered a girl in a bathroom.

When authorities found them she exclaimed, "He trapped me! He trapped me!) was going to pour his old shaving water from his helmet on Hawkeye to wake him up,

but thought better of it since he believed his cohort deserved ever ounce of happiness he could get.

"Looks like your friend, Pierce, is having one of his disgusting dreams again," said one very snotty and even more incompetent Major Frank Burns.

"Good morning, Frank," replied Trapper.

"That was totally uncalled for McIntyre"

At that Trapper laughed.

"Hey, Frank! I heard Hawk talking in his sleep and you're right. This is the worst one yet, and guess what. You're in it!

"Oh, really?" replied Frank, his interest perked.

"Yup," said Trapper, baiting him.

"What did he say? Tell me."

"Nope."

"Aww, come on, tell me. Trap. Buddy," Frank pleaded.

"I don't know. Hawkeye would have both our hides," replied Trapper wryly.

"If you tell me I'll show you the pictures of my receptionist from the Indianapolis Hemorrhoid Conference in 'forty-nine!"

"I've already seen them, Frank, and I gotta tell ya, Frank, She' really stacked!"

"How'd..d..d..d. Where'd..d..d..d Why you..."

"All right! All right! But don't tell Hawkeye," Trapper conceded.

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Really? That can be arranged, Frank," Trapper quipped.

Major Burns shot him an icy glare.

"Come here, I don't want anyone to hear."

Frank moved in closer to th other doctor and started giggling like a giddy school girl.

"Closer," Trapper said.

Frank inched even closer. Trapper put his arm around Frank's shoulder and pulled him to where their faces were no more than an inch apart.

"Well, ya see, this is how it went."

Frank was shaking in excited anticipation. When Trapper thought he was about to have an accident, he grabbed the back of Frank's head and planted a big, fat,

sloppy kiss right on the major's lips.

"What would your wives think? What would Hotlips think?" asked a newly awakened Hawkeye, sending Frank to stammering and Trapper to laughing.

"Frank, you gotta wear the gown. Trap looks lousy in white."

"You...You...Perverts! Degenerates! I'll get you you...you..."

"How dare you call us a you you!" piped in Trapper.

"I'm going to tell Colonel Blake. See how funny it is then."

"Henry?" Hawkeye and Trapper inquired incredulously.

"Frank, the biggest decision Henry ever makes is choosing between gin and scotch." Hawkeye said.

"Yeah! Not to mention that he has quite a dislike for doctors who make more widows and pallbearers than the plague." said Trapper

"Are you insinuating that I'm an inferior doctor?" asked Frank.

"No. I'm bluntly saying it. Frank, as a doctor your death count ranks right up there with Dr. Mengele." Hawkeye jabbed.

"Well. I. Never!" huffed Frank as he stormed out of the Swamp.

"I thought he'd never leave. Want a martini, Hawk?"

"After what I just saw I think you need to make it a quintuple. How was he anyway, I was thinking about asking him to the prom?"

"No lips" laughed Trapper.

_Attention all personnel: All medical staff: We have wounded of all shapes and sizes coming in by helicopter and ambulance. Get yours before we run out!_

"There went happy minute," complained trapper

"Let's go."

And good morning to you too, Korea, thought Hawkeye as he scrambled to get dressed and begin another seventy-two hour day in O.R.

* * *

Not slash I promise. This is all leading somewhere I promise. Also, sorry if i screwed up your names in my thank yous, I'm highly medicated right now.


	4. Chapter 4: And The Song Remains Insane

Here's another one. Sorry so long for the chap but I've had a few health problems and my cat got sick and died. The latter of which is where I got the inspiration for this chapter. I spent two days crying because he was sick and I couldn't get him to a vet and three days crying cos he died in my arms on the way home from the vet on the third day of his illness. The first poem is an original I wrote and actually won awards for and got published in a couple of poetry books. Its called "Slide." The second one is the lyrics to a song called "Mad World" by Gary Jules. This one's dedicated to my cat. R.I.P. Kunte Curtis. March 25, 2008 – June 23, 2008. The sweetest cat any human being could ever hope to be associated with. We miss you buddy!

* * *

Crossing the threshold into oblivion

I'm slaughtering a worthless generation

There's something about this realm

Like sailing rocky waters with no one at the helm

Can someone tell me what this life is for

Because death is knocking on my door

Cos I'm sliding into something

Something not said or heard or touched

Cos I'm sliding into something

And something tells me we're out of luck

Sliding into a world unconscious

I feel wholly and truly self righteous

Depression has always been my four leaf clover

I go through my life perpetually bent over

Can someone assure me that I'm gonna fly

Because honestly i don't want to die

Cos I'm sliding into something

Something a bit more unstable

Cos I'm sliding into something

And its feeling very comfortable

* * *

Thirty-three hours, sixty-two patients, three cups of coffee, two bologna sandwiches, and four glasses of orange juice had passed in front of Hawkeye since the

beginning of the deluge. Miles of surgical silk had been used. Hundreds of yards of intestines had been removed. All this and strangely he wasn't tired. Adrenaline did

strange things to the human body. It also did strange things to the human mind. Gallons of human blood covered his surgical gown, filled his boots, and covered the

floor. The real "Red Menace" thought Hawkeye as he looked at himself in the scrub room after he finished his last patient.

"Pierce, I'd like to see you..."

"You'll just have to wait in line like everyone else, Henry," Hawkeye interrupted.

"Pipe down Pierce, that's an order. Now, as I was saying: I'd like to see you in my office after you've had a chance to freshen up a bit," replied Col. Blake.

"Inviting me to the freshman mixer big boy? You do realize thats how you met your wife and thus wound up with three kids, right?" the captain jabbed.

"Just meet me in my office in fifteen minutes."

"Sure Henry." he said as Colonel Blake stormed out, frustrated at Hawkeye's seeming inability to be serious.

Henry was right though, Hawkeye did need to freshen up a bit. The blood from the past 33 hours had soaked through to the skin. Fifteen minutes in an icy cold

shower would make a new man out of him. It could also possibly get him the soprano spot in the Vienna Boy's Choir. Hawkeye grabbed his robe, Frank's towel and

razor and headed to the showers.

Fifteen minutes later, Hawkeye walked out of the shower tent and straight into Colonel Blake's office.

He walked straight to Henry's liquor cabinet and poured himself three fingers of scotch and sat down in front of the Colonel's desk, still dripping wet.

"Care for a drink?" asked Henry.

"Don't mind if I do," he replied.

"What is it, Henry?"

"We have a patient..."

"Very observant, Henry."

"I mean we have a patient here with an undiagnosed illness. Incessant vomiting, diarrhea, depression, severe dehydration, total listlessness, the works. You, being

the best doctor I have, are going to take care of him."

"Sounds like a loser to me, give him to Frank, he won't mind losing another one."

"It wasn't a request, Pierce, it was an order. That and I think you may know him."

"What's his name?"

"Pierce. Colonel William Pierce. Commander of the seventh armored cavalry division. Born in Spruce Harbor, Maine."

Hawkeye's eyes widened and his gorge threatened to rise.

* * *

"Nobody goes into the V.I.P. Tent without first being requested by me, and secondly without wearing a mask."

Hawkeye finishes nailing up the 'Quarantine' sign on the door to the tent and puts on a surgical mask while walking inside.

"Hey there Ben," rasped Col. Pierce, "I look like Hell don't I?"

"Its Hawkeye, Billy, and no more than usual."

"Its Bill now, Hawkeye, I've grown up."

"I'm sorry, Col. Bill, now stick out your arm, I gotta get some blood." He did as he was told.

"What's wrong with me, Hawkeye?"

"That's what I'm here to find out. Now open your mouth."

"What for?"

"Does it matter? My medical insignia outranks your eagle in this situation. Just do what I say."

Hawkeye sticks the thermometer in Bill's mouth. "Close it."

A minute of awkward silence passes before Hawkeye finally takes out the thermometer.

"Ninety point three. Not good. Not good at all."

"Am I gonna die Hawkeye?"

"Not if your body knows what's good for it you won't. I'll be back in a little bit. There's someone outside your tent at all times. If you need anything just scream what

you need and they'll get me to get it to you."

"Thank you Ben."

* * *

"Thank me after you get the bill"

"Hey Trap, come look at this."

"What is it?"

"It's Col. Pierce's blood sample. Look at the white count."

"Jesus, Hawk, what's the count?"

"Less than a hundred. His immune system is all but nonexistent."

"What are you gonna do?"

* * *

"Pray"

All around me are familiar faces

Worn out places, worn out faces

Bright and early for their daily races

Going nowhere, going nowhere

Their tears are filling up their glasses

No expression, no expression

Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow

No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kinda funny

I find it kinda sad

The dreams in which I'm dying

Are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you

I find it hard to take

When people run in circles

It's a very, very mad world mad world

Children waiting for the day they feel good

Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday

Made to feel the way that every child should

Sit and listen, sit and listen

Went to school and I was very nervous

No one knew me, no one knew me

Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson

Look right through me, look right through me

And I find it kinda funny

I find it kinda sad

The dreams in which I'm dying

Are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you

I find it hard to take

When people run in circles

It's a very, very mad world ... world

Enlarging your world

Mad world

* * *

Hawkeye was at a total loss for answers. Intravenous saline solution wasn't helping his severe dehydration. Bill wouldn't eat or drink anything unless you shoved it

down his throat. His temperature was low. Worst of all, he had this look in his eyes that spoke volumes to Hawkeye. It told him, "I want to die. Don't help me. Let me

wither away. I deserve this." The only thing anybody knew about this mysterious ailment was that it was a viral infection that attacked the bone marrow, absolutely

killing the body's ability to produce white blood cells. Hawkeye felt utterly helpless. He put him on antibiotics to aide in keeping the viral infection from turning bacterial

and something to keep the nausea in check from the force feedings.

Two days after his cousin's arrival, Hawkeye walked into his tent to check on him and take his vitals. When he walked in he was horrified to see that Bill's breathing

was shallow and rapid. Tears trickling down his eyes and lunch threatening to make an encore, he reached in his bag and grabbed a vial and a syringe. He extracted

the fluid and pumped it into the valve in his I.V. tube. Within seconds the colonel's breathing had slowed. It was still shallow but it had slowed. The calm collectiveness

of his actions deceived the panic and turmoil he felt inside.

Hawkeye wiped the tears from his eyes and the snot from his nose.

"Damn it! Billy, don't you ever scare me like that again!" Hawkeye pulled a stool up next to his cousin's cot and sat down. He had a few things to say.

* * *

"I hated you once ya know. But I didn't really hate you because I loved you so much. Well I guess I really did hate you because hate is just a different reaction to the

same emotion, right?" The tears were flowing now.

"After you pushed me out of the boat, I could have killed you. But I couldn't let myself feel that way because I loved you. I loved you and you were everything I

wanted to be. You were perfect. All the kids loved you. All the adults loved you. I was envied by all the kids in town because I had something they didn't. You were my

cousin. They despised me for that. You were mine. I relished their resentment because I had the most coveted thing in town. You.." Hawkeye's chest started heaving

and he started feeling pressure on his heart and lungs. Scattered through his speech were sniffles and quiet sobs. He was barely containing his emotions. He

watched his fallen hero lay there, barely breathing and not moving.

"I forgive you, Billy! Please don't die on me!" Hawkeye pleaded

"I'll fix you up, buddy. You'll be right as rain in no time. You'll see. You'll get better. I'm a doctor, if I can't figure out how to kill this virus what the hell am I doing here?

You'll make it. Buddy hang in there, you'll make it. You'll make it. You'll be all right."

* * *

Two more days with no change had Hawkeye worried to death. The whole gang was in the mess tent eating what somebody called lunch.

"How's Col. Pierce, Pierce?" inquired Margaret.

"He's dying."

"That must be so awful for you, Captain. I'm so sorry."

"Thanks Margaret."

"Oh how the mighty have fallen." said Burns

"Shut up Frank!" Hawkeye replied, a tear welling in his eye.

"Every other day I'm Dr. Screwup. I've operated on one hundred and twenty patients to you treating one sick patient. He wasn't even wounded. I haven't killed

anybody this week. How about you, Supersurgeon?"

"Are you volunteering?"

"Frank! Show some sympathy! He is watching a member of his family die!" chastised Margaret.

"I'm sorry, Margaret, it's just that..."

"Frank! One more word out of you and you'll be pulling your teeth out of your rectum!" Hawkeye screamed as stood up, fists clenched and face red and hot.

"What d..." whimpered the Major.

"Good enough for me!" exclaimed Hawkeye right before he drove his fist into Frank's face, breaking his nose and splitting a horrible gash in his lip.

The ensuing pandemonium was abruptly ended when, amazingly enough, they simultaneously saw Colonel William Pierce walk, I.V. bottle in tow, into the mess tent.

"Billy!" Hawkeye exclaimed with sincere jubilation.

"Hey Hawkeye."

"Come on over here! I usually only recommend our food to the Chinese, but you haven't eaten anything in almost a week." Billy weakly walked over to the table and

sat down at the end and Hawkeye parked his behind right next to him.

"Thank you Hawkeye," said Billy "I heard what you said the other day."

"I told you you'd get better." Hawkeye was tearing up again. Tearing up because he almost lost his cousin and because he didn't lose his cousin.

Billy ate some mashed potatoes and some mystery soup. He sat there quietly for a while before he decided that he wanted to go back to bed. He made a move to get

up but couldn't.

"You all right Billy?" asked Hawkeye.

"I can't seem to get up." Billy went limp.

Hawkeye looked at Billy and saw, with relief, that he was still breathing. Took too much out of him. He thought. He got up and moved around to the other side of his

cousin so he could see his face. His eyes were open. His breathing was shallow and rapid again. He whispered something inaudibly.

"Huh?" said Hawkeye.

"Help me," whispered Billy.

"Margaret, when I pick him up put his I.V. bottle in his lap. I'm going to carry him back to his bunk."

"Yes, Captain."

Hawkeye picked him up and Margaret did as she was told. They made their way to the compound. A few steps out of the mess tent, Billy looked up at Hawkeye with

tears in his eyes.

"I love you too Hawk," he managed.

Billy stopped breathing.

"I know Billy. You're gonna be fine. You're gonna be o.k. You walked to the mess tent on your own. You haven't moved a muscle in a week. You're getting better. Don't

leave. You can't. Other than my dad, you're all I have left. You'll make it. Don't go, buddy. Please don't go!" Hawkeye was sobbing uncontrollably now.

"You son of a bitch, you can't die! If you don't get better, I swear to God you'll wish you had!"

Billy's entire body stiffened. His face contorted to a look that was that of a silent agonized scream. His hands gripped Hawkeye's shoulders so hard they penetrated

the skin.

"BILLY! Come on you bastard! Fight! Don't let the bastard win!"

Billy went limp and the front of his hospital gown was wet and yellow. Hawkeye looked down at him, looking for any sign of life. There was none to be found. Hawkeye

panicked.

"HELP ME!!" he yelled right before he was swallowed by comfortable oblivion.

* * *

Not exactly what I had in mind but it'll work for now. I couldn't bring myself to bring in all those emotions. I'm a wuss I know. A bit out of his usual character too, but I can imagine that anyone, even Hawkeye, might act like this when witnessing the slow death of a family member and friend. Thank you for your kind reviews. I'm sure this chapter will get some bad ones but I can take it. Read and Review. Any suggestions for the story will also be appreciated. Not necessarily used, but will be taken into consideration and appreciated because they tell me that you like the story enough for one to actually have read it all the way through ( not that long though) and secondly that you have your own ideas, which tells me you care about what's going on.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5: Oblivion

FINALLY! Chapter 5 is here! Its not too long though, I felt I had to post something. Its been too long since chapter four. To all who are concerned, I'm back in

good health. Thank you all for your concern. Thank you to those of you who reviewed, especially coast2coast and newyorkgal. And a special thanks to PierceMD

and Coast2coast for just being cool people and writing good stories. The main reason it took so long to update was not my health though, it was lack of

inspiration. I'm a bit disappointed with this dream sequence, but its something. Maybe I'll redeem myself with the next chapter which I'm starting to web out right

now. This sequence is where you finally get a sense of what the story is going to be all about. Happy Days!!

* * *

_Oblivion. Sweet oblivion. He felt nothing. Saw nothing. Nothing but black eternity. Floating effortlessly in inky blackness, he looks around in every direction. Vertigo. There _

_was no up and no down and no sides and no time. The longer he floated around the more he came to his senses. He felt as if he was in a gyroscope floating around in water _

_yet not getting wet. Sometime during his examination of the nothingness he was engulfed by, he noticed that somewhere far away from him in the direction of his feet the _

_blackness turned deep purple. 'That must be up' he thought. With that realization, his vertigo left him. With the departure of the vertigo came panic. Panic stricken by the _

_realization that he was too far away from the light to make it. The realization that he hadn't taken a breath since he came to. The realization that he was going to die. 'I _

_can't die' he thought. Hopeless as it seemed, he began to swim toward the light._

* * *

_He swam for what seemed like months. The deep purple getting lighter with every stroke. He knew he wasn't going to make it, but he vowed to die trying. He couldn't bring _

_himself to quit. There had been many times on the operating table where he'd wanted to quit. Wanted to quit because it was all but hopeless. Wanted to quit because he _

_didn't think he could. But he never quit. He HAD to try. Many lives had been saved because of his unwillingness to give up. Hopefully this would be one of those times. _

_Doubtful, but hopefully. Finally, after what seemed like several lifetimes, his head broke water._

* * *

_Hawkeye looked around him. There was no water to be found. All there was was a shore less beach, woods, and a mountain in the distance. The sky was jet black, but the _

_land was bright. Odd, he'd never seen light coming from the land before. It seemed to be brightest at the mountain's peak. He figured that's where he needed to be so he _

_set off toward the mountain._

* * *

_He entered the dense woods cautiously. He had nothing to defend himself from any wild animals that may attack. Hell, he didn't even have any clothes on. Step after step _

_he crept through the woods without incident. 'Odd,' he thought. Not so much as a stray root on which to stub his toe presented itself. For some reason, this worried him _

_something awful. Eyes focused on the ground ahead of him, he spotted a broken, jagged root. He started to walk directly toward it, never lifting his feet off of the ground. _

_He braced himself for the pain of slamming his toe into the jagged root. When nothing happened, he looked down and to his surprise, the root had vanished! This was _

_strange. He looked behind him and saw, much to his amazement that there was what appeared to be a wide, well used path where before there had been nothing but _

_woods. He looked back in the direction he'd been heading and saw nothing but trees, vines, and nothing else._

* * *

_He unconsciously began walking again. While pondering what had just happened he had the craziest idea. He began to run. Faster. Faster. He gained speed until he couldn't _

_feel his feet hitting the ground anymore. He ran like this for several minutes and abruptly dropped to the ground. He looked ahead of him when he hit and what he saw _

_before him was nothing short of fantastic. The woods ahead of him were opening themselves into a path much like the path behind him. Then, without warning, the path _

_ended._

* * *

_He didn't know what direction he was headed so he decided to climb a tree to catch his bearings. He approached what, for all he could tell, was the largest tree in the _

_vicinity. Reaching for the lowest branch, he noticed another branch sprout at knee level. This was becoming insane. The tree branches sprouted or moved to form a ladder _

_for him as he ascended to the top._

* * *

_After climbing for what seemed like years, Hawkeye finally reached the apex of the mighty tree. He looked around and saw clouds. Clouds and more clouds. The tree had _

_even disappeared. As strange as this place was getting, he wasn't surprised. About fifty yards to his left he saw a sign. Looked like an old fashioned road sign. He walked _

_toward it. As he drew nearer, he thought the sign looked vaguely familiar. It consisted of a simple wooden post with wooden planks pointing any which way. The writing on _

_most of them was faded almost beyond recognition. He could make out Honolulu on one, Chicago on another. The plank that interested him most was the one at the top. It _

_read, "Seventeen miles to Rainbow Row." Curious. Strangely enough, to Hawkeye, the other ones seemed out of place in this strange land. How he'd come to be here was _

_anyone's guess. Once again, not one to quit, he decided to forge ahead. "On to Rainbow Row!" He said with mock heroism, "Wherever that is."_

* * *

_Before he had a chance to take a single step, he found himself at the base of either a large rock or a decidedly minute mountain. His only guess was that this was the _

_summit of the mountain he'd seen from the beach which had no ocean, so why did he call it a beach? "Damn it! Stop it, you're driving yourself nuts. Just shut up!" He _

_decided to climb the formation. To do so he had to find a good place to start. He walked around the base until he found what he, wasn't exactly looking for, but would work _

_all the same. He found a wrought iron gateway, like the ones you'd expect to find at the OK Corral that said Rainbow Row. Behind the gateway was a set of stairs. He _

_opened the gate._

* * *

_The gate slammed shut behind him, and as soon as it did, the stairs disappeared in favour of a fantastically grande courtyard. On the other side of the courtyard was an _

_immense palace. Ha Ha! That's where he wanted to be! He began to follow the only path to the house. As he was walking he realized that the path had veered straight into _

_a graveyard. Creepy. Creepy as it was he couldn't help but looking at the five or six headstones that he could see. The first one read: Tombstone Pierce; 1830-1900; High _

_distributor of whiskey and hors d'oeuvres to the Indians. The next one was illegible. The following stone read: Mary Pierce; 1895-1928; Best mother a kid could ever lose. _

_Tears began welling up in Hawkeye's eyes. The next one belonged to Tommy Gillis; 1919-1951; You should have ducked you jackass!! The next one Belonged to...no, it _

_couldn't be. It wasn't possible. He decided not to read that one. It had to be wrong. The last one belonged to his cousin Billy who had just died in his arms. William Pierce: _

_1912-1951:I'm sorry Billy. He was openly weeping at this point. He needed to get away. He ran toward the house. He opened the door and entered a huge room with two _

_golden chairs at one end. He looked around. The whole room was adorned in gold and silk. The floors were pure white marble. All over the place were portraits of people he'd _

_loved and lost his whole life. Not a single portrait that he could see was of someone he could still talk to._

* * *

_He walked towards the thrones. On the larger of the two sat a jeweled crown, scepter, robe, and a rolled up piece of paper. He picked up the paper and looked at it. The wax _

_seal on it bore the Pierce family Coat of arms. He opened the scroll. It read:_

* * *

_Son, I'm sorry I'm not here for you in your time of need. I'm watching you though. I'll never have to make you breakfast again. Next time, your mother will do it. She is so _

_much better a cook than I could ever have hoped to be. I just wanted to leave you this little note to tell you that you're the king now. You are the Pierce family. Be stern but _

_fair. Remember I will be watching you. I love you._

_Daniel Pierce_

* * *

_Hawkeye closed the scroll. He couldn't help it anymore. The sobs were coming. "Dad, how can I be a king when there's no one left?"_


	6. One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

Ok, here's another one. Kinda crappy but its the best I can do for right now. I'm not looking forward to the next couple of chaps because I'm actually going to have to do some research on psychiatry and other such nonsense. Thank you to the two people who have read and reviewed since the beginning. Enjoy! Oh yeah! R&R or your teeth will become insect larvae, your tongue will become fungus infested toe jam and your first born will be fed to my cats! If you like the story tell your friends to R&R too! Happy Days!!

* * *

Dear Dad,

It goes on and on. Every day brings either death and destruction or utter boredom. I don't know how much more of this I can take. The bad thing is I'm not sure

which one gets to me more. When I'm operating on wounded kids, I pray for it to stop. When I'm sitting in my tent downing martinis, bored to tears, I pray for

anything to break the monotony. Dad, be careful what you pray for. You just might get it. The day before yesterday I prayed for an end to the tedious boredom. I got

my wish. I operated for over thirty hours on countless kids who should be home right now trying to figure out how to cover their girlfriends' hickeys. I'll be back in a

few minutes, Dad. Another answer to my prayers. Dysentery never fails to amuse. Thank God I just got the latest copy of The Joy of Nudism, and Nudists Quarterly to

occupy my time on these frequent trips.

I'm back, Dad. Where was I? Ah, yes. These kids I operate on, most of them, couldn't ante up a whisker if they shaved their entire bodies. Speaking of kids, do you

remember cousin Billy? Well, apparently he's a tank commander now. He came in yesterday with some unknown malady. I just can't lay my finger on it. He doesn't

look too good. Hopefully he'll come back around. On that note I have to ask you something. I haven't heard from you in months. Is there some sort of trouble? Are

you just too busy with your practice?

Let me give you an update on the residents of The Seventh Circle of Hell North. If I'm not mistaken, Trapper and Frank are engaged to be married. I wonder what

their wives will think! Frank and Hotlips aren't talking to each other right now. Hot Lips apparently got tired of being constantly reminded that Frank is a married man.

Boy what I wouldn't have given to have been able to hear that one...oh wait! I did. Silly me! I've even enclosed the tape so you could get a laugh too. Next, the idiot

went crying to Henry to use the phone to call his wife. Margaret had the extra ears on that one. During that conversation, Frank mentioned that Major Houlihan was

reminiscent of a crucial cog in the old cavalry and a few other slurs against the softer major. Then he asked if he was still in her father's will and if she could send him

some cookies and all the usual Frank Burns crapola. A satisfied Frank walked out of the office to an onslaught of flying objects. Then Hotlips told him to use the Hare

Kari dagger she got him from Tokyo. I keep trying to charm my way into Margaret's heart among other things, but she has a shell of mean surrounding her that

makes a Sherman Tank look like a jellyfish in comparison.

Trapper is loving the rift between the two. He wastes no opportunity to pull pranks on either one of them. A couple days ago Trapper had the simultaneously

fortunate and unfortunate privilege of giving Hotlips her annual physical, a job usually reserved for Frank, a fact he rubbed in Frank's face to no end.

Trap went to her tent wearing a tuxedo and carrying roses. When she answered her door he got down on his knees and proposed to her. She was livid. Damn it!

Dad, I gotta go. The war beckons.

* * *

"Henry, we gotta do something!"

"Well, McIntyre, what do you think we should do?"

"Sidney!"

"Good idea. RADAR!"

"Dr. Freedman will be here first thing in the morning"

"Radar, call Sidney Freedman and tell him we need him here as soon as possible"

"Yes Sir"

"Sir?"

"Yes, Radar?"

"Is Captain Pierce gonna be ok?"

"I don't know, Radar. I don't know."

"Henry, I think I'm just gonna keep him sedated for now."

"Good thinking. Radar, call I Corps and get them to send us a replacement surgeon."

"Right away, Sir"

* * *

Just so you know, the first part is Trapper and Henry reading the letter, which by the way was written the previous day. I didn't want to put that in the story yet for some odd reason. The importance of that fact will become crystal clear somewhere in the next couple chapters. The last one not so subtly hinted at it but now the issue gets put to the forefront. Mainly because I'm running out of ideas for this particular storyline. Got plenty of others for other stories and other shows though. So if you have any suggestions as to where I should go from here, let m know.

* * *


	7. Chapter 7: Something a Bit More Real

Howdy y'all! Sorry for the long delay. I've had a hell of a time the last few months. Here's another chapter. I decided not to research anything and I know it shows, but ahh well..... Read and Review please.

* * *

"Colonel Blake?"

"Yeah, Radar?"

"The replacement surgeon won't be here for at least four days."

"Damn it! Radar, call everywhere you can think to call and see if you can't get that doctor here quicker!"

"Yessir."

Major Sidney Freedman, Regimental Psychiatrist, arrived at the 4077th at oh eight hundred hours the following morning. He arrived to a camp devoid of life. Apparently, the previous night's push-on and its aftermath had rendered the whole of the camp's staff exhausted to the point bordering comatose.

Dr. Freedman had no idea why he was here. He only knew that all that Radar had said was that it was an emergency and he needed to get here ASAP. What kind of emergency was beyond him. This place and the people in it had an uncanny knack for health. That was why he came here every Thursday night to play poker. Kind of a repast from the real problem cases he dealt with in Seoul everyday. People here were loony, but in their lunacy they had found a way to preserve sanity. Preserve their sanity and their humanity. He was worried. Damned worried. He marched right over to Radar's office, which doubled as his sleeping quarters.

"Radar."

"But Mom, I don't want to slop the hogs today."

"Radar!"

"Mom! I said…"

"Radar, it's me, Sidney."

"Oh! Dr. Freedman! Let me go get Col. Blake!"

"You do that." At that Radar ran out the door in his robe.

"Sidney, I don't know what to do."

"When did you say this happened?"

"About four months ago. I have the newspaper clipping right over here."

"He's obviously in denial, Henry."

"That I can see, but what do we do about it?"

"There really is nothing we can do about it unless his behavior becomes erratic."

"Huh?"

"We have to let him come to terms with it on his own. Our intervention may just cement his denial into place, effectively giving him a real mental disorder."

"Ahh, so we sit around and act like nothing happens while my best doctor turns into a fruitcake?"

"Essentially, Henry, yes. Discontinue sedation. I'll see you tonight at the poker game."

"Yeah. Sixteen hun…no…wait, that's not right. Damn! I wish the army would tell time like everybody else! Sidney, what's six o'clock p.m. in army time?"

"Henry, six p.m. would have been just fine, but if you must know it's eighteen hundred hours."

"Really? Thanks. See ya then."

Six o'clock comes fast in a hospital unit. The doctors were still in surgery at six so the poker game didn't start till eight. When the gang arrived in the swamp they found Dr. Freedman and Hawkeye sitting opposite each other at the gaming table. Hawkeye was intently shuffling a deck of cards and Sidney was intently staring at him. He had a worried look on his face.

"Henry, may I talk to you outside for a minute?"

"Yeah, Sidney, what's up?"

"Can you afford to keep Hawkeye out of commission for a little while longer?"

"Yeah, we got Dr. Curtis on loan for as long as we need him."

"Good, I have to do some work with him. While you were in surgery, we had the opportunity to talk a little."

"Yeah? What did he say?"

"He asked me if I knew where his letter to his father went. He also asked me if I could arrange an emergency furlough for him because he's worried about his father. Apparently he hasn't heard from him in months."

"So what's the plan?"

"Deal me out."

"Hawkeye, I want you to read this for me."

"What is it?"

"A four month old copy of the Crabapple Cove Courier."

"Why?"

"Humor me."


	8. Heaven's So Far Away

Aloha y'all! Got another couple of chapters written, just don't have time right now to type them out(I can't write using a keyboard, it goes against everything I feel about literature, so I still use pen and paper.) or post them right now as i don't have net connection at home and I'm running errands for the wife. If any of you were wondering about me and why the wait, there are a couple of reasons. One, I lost net connection. Two: in November I almost died of diabetic ketoacidosis. No idea if i spelled that right, but ahh well such is not the point. The next couple of chapters are going to be short dream sequences that outline Hawkeye's reaction to being forced to face up to his father's obituary. I originally intended to put a chap that described dr. freedman and hawk's session, but i lost the notebook, so instead of rewriting i skipped it. As usual, I don't own any of this, except maybe the idea for the story itself. the little poem thing at the end is the lyrics to 'Gone Away' by the Offspring. R&R!

* * *

Benjamin Franklin 'Hawkeye' Pierce sept like he hadn't slept since before basic training. He dreamt of Crabapple Cove. He dreamt of Boston. He dreamt of all the things he had known before this atrocity had invaded his bubble. These were not pleasant dreams, however. As the war had perverted his life, so it had done to his dreams.

Daniel 'Big Benjy' Pierce woke up at six A.M. sharp just like he had every morning except Sunday for the past thirty years. He wiped the sleep from his eyes with a sleeve from his favorite pair of blue flannel pajamas. He walked to the kitchen and set up the percolator to brew a pot of coffee. While his coffee was brewing, Big Benjy walked to the front porch to grab the latest edition of the Crabapple Cove Courier, which he knew would be anywhere but on the porch. Lo and behold, there it was in the middle of a deep entanglement of shrubs which flanked the front steps on both sides and provided the porch with a nearly impenetrable barricade of ever present ever greenery.

"Damned sonofaqueah! Rotten little bahstard! If I evah catch ya, I'm gonna thump ya something but good!" he hollered after the paper boy who he heard speeding away due to the clackety clack of baseball cards in the spokes of his bicycle tires.

After spending fifteen minutes fetching his newspaper, he walked back into the house, greeted by the wonderously delicious aroma of fresh brewed coffee. He smiled, "Finest Kind," fixed himself a cup of coffee and sat down to read the newspaper and enjoy his morning before going to work. He'd finish his letter to Hawkeye when he got home that evening.

When he finished his coffee and his paper, Daniel cleaned up the kitchen and went to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Grabbing a towel from the linen closet, he undressed and turned on the shower. Not too hot, not too cold. He got in and began lathering the bar of soap. Suddenly, with no warning, he got dizzy and his vision blurred. Then all went black.

* * *

Maybe in another life  
I could find you there  
Pulled away before your time  
I can't deal it's so unfair

And it feels  
And it feels like  
Heaven's so far away  
And it feels  
Yeah it feels like  
The world has grown cold  
Now that you've gone away

Leaving flowers on your grave  
Show that I still care  
But black roses and Hail Mary's  
Can't bring back what's taken from me

I reach to the sky  
And call out your name  
And if I could trade  
I would

And it feels  
And it feels like  
Heaven's so far away  
And it stings  
Yeah it stings now  
The world is so cold  
Now that you've gone away  
Gone away, gone away, yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Oooooo, yeah oooooo, oooooo, Ohh yeah.

I'll Save Your Soul  
Whoa. Yeaaaaaeeeaaeah. Mm.

I reach to the sky  
And call out your name  
Oh please let me trade  
I would

And it feels  
And it feels like  
Heaven's so far away  
And it feels  
Yeah it feels like  
The world has grown cold  
Now that you've gone away  
Gone away, gone away, yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Oooooo, yeah oooooo, oooooo, Ohh yeah.  
Oooooo, yeah oooooo, oooooo, Ohh yeah.


End file.
